Two Years Since My Spouse Last Saw Me Naked: A Candid Confession

When it comes to making love, it has to be in complete darkness. I cannot stand the thought of my body being visible, especially not to my dear husband. The mere idea of him seeing me nearly sends me into a panic attack; it has become a nightmare, for both him and me. I despise my body. Thus, I meticulously avoid all mirrors when I’m naked, and the thought of stepping into a fitting room is out of the question.

I’ve dictated a whole ritual to him. He must wait for my text message before coming up to the bedroom. This way, I am absolutely sure I am under the covers when he opens the door. Even if the hallway is also dark, it slightly illuminates the room. He is completely forbidden from bringing his phone; it might light up unexpectedly, and he would see me. Moreover, during intimacy, I never take my top off. I allow him to touch my breasts but not my stomach. I also dislike him touching my thighs, but I don’t say much about that, as I feel incredibly guilty. I feel like I’ve deceived him by presenting myself as someone who was okay mentally, though just a bit self-conscious about beginning to gain weight. It’s been nearly 10 years now… And today, he makes love to a ghost.

And it’s not just in our private life. He is strictly forbidden from entering the bathroom when I’m in there. I never step out in just a “towel”, let alone in underwear. Although we live near the ocean, in the Landes, I no longer go to the beach. I could go with him and stay fully clothed, but seeing all those women in swimsuits breaks my heart. Why can’t I do that? I see others who are curvy, with cellulite, sagging breasts… and it doesn’t seem to bother them. I used to not care about others’ opinions when I was 20, especially since I was very slim then!

“My weight gain began with depression”

Then, I started gaining weight in my thirties following a bout of depression. I didn’t recognize my body anymore. It felt impossible that this “thing” could be mine. As a result, I began wearing loose, dark clothing, which was not my style before. I thought it was just a phase, that I just needed to hide it for a while and everything would go back to normal soon. But I kept gaining weight and hating myself more and more. It has been over two years now since my partner has seen me naked.

I know how difficult this is for him, but I am doing everything I can to get through this, and he knows it. When we talk about it sometimes, it’s so painful for me that I quickly get irritated. I don’t know what to say except that my body disgusts me. And when I hear him tell me that he “loves it,” that he “doesn’t care that I’m overweight,” I feel like exploding. It’s unbearable for me to hear that. I refuse to be “beautiful even though I’m chubby.” No. I’ve always been slim; it’s my identity. I grew up with people saying, “You’re so lucky to be like that,” and to me, being overweight is fine for others, but not for me.

Being overweight is great for others, not for me

In recent months, I’ve started seeing a psychologist. The progress is minimal, but for example, I recently went back to the beach. It was winter, but the weather was very mild, and for the first time in a long time, I wanted to take off my heavy sweatpants. I didn’t do it, but just wanting to felt like a sign that I was beginning to reconcile with my body. Slowly. To love it as it is now, and to share it again with the one I love, whose desiring gaze I miss so much.